Chapter 7

The pungent aroma of gardenias permeated the air as a handsome young man took hold of Katherine's gloved hand. His forest green eyes sparkled mischievously as he led her to a secluded alcove far from the prying eyes of the plantation hands.

Giggling, Katherine picked up her pace to keep up with him, stumbling in the process. Catching her, the young man looked into her eyes before bringing his mouth to hers. As their lips met, Katherine felt her body ignite as if she had, somehow, lost her Lapis Lazuli daylight necklace. The aforementioned, a bewitched jewel that allowed her to walk in the sun without harm. This fire though, did not bring her pain; it merely warmed her from the inside out, inciting her to deepen the kiss. When the lovers finally broke apart, Katherine said, "Make love to me Stefan."

"Katherine," Stefan said breathlessly. "I…"

Pressing a finger to his lips, Katherine took his hand. Walking backwards, she made her way to the base of a massive oak. Its ancient limbs promised shady relief from the hot Virginian afternoon and the grass beneath it was soft and welcoming. Sitting down, she smiled up at Stefan, beckoning him to join her.

Hesitantly, Stefan knelt down beside her.

"What is it?" Katherine asked, noting the troubled expression marring his face.

"Do you love me?" Stefan asked abruptly.

"Of course!" Katherine gasped. "Why would you ask me such a thing?"

For a few moments, Stefan deliberated before saying, "I saw the way my brother was looking at you yesterday…the way you were looking at him. Do you have feelings for Damon?"

Taking in her beau's agonized look, Katherine jaw slackened, "Stefan, I love your brother, but I am in love with you. I will always choose you."

"He says that you've been…intimate," Stefan said, averting his gaze.

"He's lying!" Katherine declared. "Stefan, look at me," she continued, cupping his chin. When his green eyes met her own, she said, "Damon is lying. I have no interest in him that way…only you."

Stefan's furrowed brow revealed that he remained uncertain.

"Stefan, Damon is jealous. He does not want us to be together. He is trying to turn you against me."

"Damon is not like that," Stefan argued, though his vehemence was half-hearted. "He doesn't lie."

Sighing, Katherine grasped Stefan's hands, "I don't want to speak ill of Damon, but I fear the war has done irreparable damage to his mind. Sometimes, he frightens me. He will not accept the fact that I am yours."

Once more, Stefan opened his mouth to articulate his dissent, but Katherine, as always, was one step ahead. Looking deeply into his eyes, her pupils expanded and contracted, almost imperceptibly, as she said, "You are not going to worry about the relationship between Damon and I any longer. We are all going to be happy together. Forever"

As if in a trance, Stefan said, "Let's not talk about Damon anymore."

"I think that's best," Katherine replied with a sweet smile. "Why waste time fretting over inconsequential matters; when we can just make love instead?"

Instantly, her lips collided with Stefan's with a force that nearly knocked him back against the tree. Tangling her hands in his soft light brown hair, she moaned as Stefan laid her down upon the soft grass.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked breathlessly, as he placed kisses down her neck.

"I've never been more certain about anything," Katherine whispered, stroking his cheek with the pad of her thumb.

Smiling, Stefan allowed his hand to roam down Katherine's corset bound waist to her curvaceous hips. As his hand continued its descent, it switched course, disappearing beneath her voluminous skirts.

Katherine gasped as Stefan's wandering hand cupped her clothed core. Encouraged by her response, he slipped his hand down inside her pantalets, teasing her heated flesh with amateur, albeit virtuosic ministrations. Arching her back, Katherine moaned, her fingers digging into the earth beneath her as Stefan elicited sensations from her long since overdue.

"Stefan," Katherine panted, as her lover ceaselessly stimulated her sensitive flesh, "Please, I want you."

She could feel Stefan's desire press against her thigh as he ceased his teasing. Removing her pantalets, he hiked her skirts up enough to give him access to her most intimate area. Spurred on by blind lust, Stefan fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, desperate to release his straining erection.

Positioning himself between her thighs, he slowly sank into her warmth. His eyes clenched shut at the unfamiliar sensation and he let out a guttural groan.

"Are you alright?" Stefan asked, believing Katherine to be a virgin like himself.

"Yes," Katherine replied stiffly, feigning discomfort.

"I can stop," Stefan panted, his brows furrowed.

"No," Katherine all but screamed. "Don't stop."

Bucking her hips against him, she watched with relish as Stefan threw his head back, his face contorted in blissful agony.

"Oh my God," he moaned, before burying his face into her hair.

"Just let go," Katherine whispered as she lovingly stroked the back of Stefan's neck.

She smiled with satisfaction as he shuddered against her, softly groaning into her dark curls.

As he came down from the euphoria, Stefan rolled over onto his side, still trembling from the exertion. He pushed back a stray tendril of hair from Katherine's face before saying, "That was the most amazing thing I have ever experienced."

"It was for me too," Katherine admitted earnestly, kissing Stefan's glistening chest. "You make me feel special."

Looking at her thoughtfully, Stefan said, "I have never felt this way about anyone in my entire life. I love you so much, Katherine."

With a gasp, Katherine bolted upright in her empty bed. The silk sheets clung to her skin as she ran her fingers through her sweat drenched bangs. Panting, she flipped on the bedside lamp. When she saw the time glowing upon the alarm clock, she fell back against the pillows with a dramatic sigh.

"It's only two in the morning, Katherine. You have got to stop doing this," she whispered to herself.

Even with Elijah back in her life, Katherine could not shake the haunting memories of her true love, Stefan Salvatore. Back in 1864, she had seduced both he and his older brother, Damon, hoping that she could transform them both into vampires and live happily ever after. Unfortunately, the crazed, anti-vampire townies of Mystic Falls had other plans. Consequently, Katherine had devised a clever, albeit treacherous, ruse to save herself and now both brothers hated her. Damon's disdain had little effect on her, but Stefan's loathing…that broke her heart. She pretended not to care about his relationship with her doppelgänger, Elena Gilbert, but, in truth, she could think of nothing else.

New World, 1010 A.D.

The clinking of metal against metal reverberated off of the trees as two young men tested their swordsmanship. Nothing about the two jousters indicated that they shared the same blood, though they wore matching tunics made from the same homespun cloth. One of the lads stood slightly taller, his dark brown hair falling in waves down his back. He fought with a graceful gentility, a finesse that his counterpart lacked. His eyes, a deep brown hazel, transparently reflected his every emotion. The other man had long flaxen locks and piercing light blue eyes, the color of a cloudless sky. His plump pink lips were set in a perpetual smirk that contrasted with his light-hearted and loving demeanor.

"When are you going to give up, Niklaus?" the dark haired man asked.

"Never, Elijah!" Niklaus responded, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

"It is time for dinner, you two,"a porcelain-faced blonde girl called from the doorway of a small hut.

"It appears we will have to continue this fray tomorrow," Elijah said, effectively blocking his brother's last attempt at a victory.

"Fine," Niklaus said with a sigh. "Though I doubt we will be able for Father will be home by dawn."

Their father, Mikael, did not appreciate his children sparring for any reason; unless, they planned to hone in on their swordsmanship for survival's sake. Sparring for sport could earn them several lashes from their militant father's collection of rods and paddles. Niklaus, in particular, bore the brunt of Mikael's disdain.

The scent of fresh mutton stew overwhelmed Niklaus and Elijah's nostrils as they settled around the white oak dinner table in the center of the cottage. The humble abode only had two rooms: a main common area, where meals were eaten and an alcove for sleeping. Elijah and Finn, the two oldest brothers shared a straw mattress as did the middle children Niklaus and Kol. Rebekah, being the only girl, had her own and the youngest Mikaelson, Henrik, still slept with their parents for he had not yet turned ten.

"When are you going to teach me how to fight?" Rebekah asked.

Of the six siblings, she favored Niklaus the most in both looks and manner. Her cornflower eyes twinkled earnestly as she set down a clay pot full of steaming corn.

"That would be never, little sister," Niklaus said, pinching her cheek.

"That's not fair," Rebekah pouted, smacking his hand away. "How am I to protect myself?"

"One of us will always be here to look after you, Rebekah," Finn Mikaelson said in his monotonous manner whilst never changing his somber expression.

Unlike the others, Finn seemed happiest alone or quietly observing from afar. He did not fit in with his lively and gregarious siblings and often thought ill of them. However, he did maintain affection for their mother, Esther, who shared his tranquil disposition.

"Besides, Bekah's a witch," Kol Mikaelson teased, knowing exactly how to antagonize his little sister.

The second youngest brother, Kol felt the need to instigate rows to get attention. An inherent "trouble-making" gene flowed freely within him, deeming him a constant nuisance. Of the children, he resembled Elijah the most for they both shared the same chiseled features.

"We do not know that for certain, yet!" Rebekah countered. "Just because mother is does not mean that…"

"Enough!" Esther said, uncharacteristically raising her voice. "That will be quite enough quarreling from the lot of you."

"Sorry mother," the children murmured, submitting to her authority.

"Let us have a quiet dinner," Esther said, setting down a large bowl of mutton stew.

After several minutes of silent eating, Esther broke through the tedium, "Rebekah my lovely, a young girl just moved into town from the old world; she's about your age."

Perking up, Rebekah's simper evaporated, replaced with a luminous smile. "Really! Have you met her yet?"

"No, not of yet," Esther replied. "But, I was hoping to bring the family a mince pie in welcome. Would you join me?"

"Of course," Rebekah said. She was just about to open her mouth to continue, when Niklaus interjected.

"Can we all go, mother?"

It was not every day that a woman moved into their isolated community.

"I'd rather not overwhelm them, Nik. I'm sure you'll meet her soon enough."

The knowing glint in Esther Mikaelson's eyes reflected her knowledge of his true intentions. Her sons were growing up into men and it was only a matter of time before they began to pursue a lover.


A light breeze ruffled through Elijah's dark brown hair as he made his way through the dense forest. The rustling of squirrels frolicking from tree to tree brought a smile to his lips. He loved nature and the creatures within it. Perhaps, such an appreciation stemmed from his mother's origin as witch. Regardless, Elijah concentrated more on the flora and fauna about him than the earthen path before him. Such aloofness changed the course of his destiny forever.

His body collided with a figure, which had not seen him from the anonymity of the trees. Falling backwards, the figure let out a strangled cry of surprise, a most feminine sound. Jumping back in astonishment, Elijah looked down at the sprawled form of a panting young woman.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She had long brown hair that hung to her waist and eyes the color of melted chocolate. Long black lashes framed the almond shaped orbs as she looked up at him in embarrassment.

"Sŭzhalyavam" the young girl said. "Az sŭm glupav i nesrŭchen."

Recognizing the Slavic tongue as the mother language of his parents, Elijah responded, "Ne, tova e po moya vina."

For several seconds, he just stared at her, dumbfounded by her beauty. Finally, he came to his senses and extended his hand, helping her to her feet.

"Thank you, sir," the young woman continued in Bulgarian.

"You spilled your bucket," Elijah said awkwardly, noting her soaked dress.

"I suppose that I have," the young woman chuckled.

"L…let me help you refill it," Elijah stammered, hastily grabbing the upturned bucket.

"Thank you," the woman said, her eyes twinkling. "You are too kind."

She followed Elijah down a slowly sloping hill that led to a creek bed, watching with amusement as he filled the bucket with trembling hands.

"Allow me to carry this back for you. It is the least that I can do after knocking you over," Elijah said.

"If I allow you to spoil me so; I must, at least, learn your name," the young woman replied.

"My name is Elijah Mikaelson."

"It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Mikaelson," the young woman said, shaking Elijah's free hand. "My name is Tatia. Tatia Petrova."


Author's Note:

Sorry it took me so long to update! I hope you liked it! Please review! :)


Bulgarian phrases:

Sŭzhalyavam: I am sorry.

Az sŭm glupav i nesrŭchen: I am foolish and clumy.

Ne, tova e po moya vina : No, it was my fault.